


Shameless

by DisasterBiAlert



Category: TharnType the Series (TV), บังเอิญรัก | Love by Chance (TV)
Genre: Boys In Love, Domestic Bliss, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Everyone Is Gay, Fluff, Idiots in Love, M/M, Minor Swearing, Our Boys Are WHIPPED, POV Alternating, POV Type Thiwat Phawattakun, Post-Canon, Romance, Shirtless, Teasing, Tharn Ae and Tin are TEASES, Type Pete & Can are THIRSTY, everyone is thirsty, idk know how to even TAG this monstrosity?, is this crack? probably yes (i'm so sorry)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-08
Updated: 2020-06-15
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:34:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24608524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DisasterBiAlert/pseuds/DisasterBiAlert
Summary: Tharn and Type are looking after Tharn’s parent’s house while they’re overseas. They decide to have a barbecue and invite Type’s juniors and their partners.Tharn thinks he can finish building the small treehouse nook for Princess before they arrive. He is wrong. Luckily, Pete and Can are more than happy to offer the service of their boyfriends, and so Ae and Tin are put to work with Tharn.Shirtless shenanigans ensue.Now with a bonus epilogue because I can’t bloody help myself ok.
Relationships: Ae/Pete (Love by Chance), Can/Tin Medthanan, Tharn Thara Kirigun/Type Thiwat Phawattakun
Comments: 25
Kudos: 325





	1. A Study In Pectorals

**Author's Note:**

> Purely shameless boys thirsting over their boys. The timeline may not completely line up here with the shows/books. This is set nearly two years post LBC S1 (which, I think, is set two years post TharnType? I could be wrong idk). Ae, Pete, Can and Tin are in the start of their third year. Tharn and Type have graduated. The six are still very close, due in part to Type’s closeness with his juniors Ae and Can, and Tharn’s family connections to Pete and Tin (bc I'm so onboard for the headcanon that all the rich boys know each other!! I'm not sure where that headcanon started, but definitely see both weilongfu's 'rich boys have no chill' and the_birdie’s ‘rich boys’ fic series if you haven't already—they’re so freaking good!!). I'm not sure exactly how old Thanya is in TharnType, but I'd guess like 6/7? So she's like 10/11 here.
> 
> Also my hc is that Ae gets like super buff but is still clueless about how hot he is? Like how everyone in the series was like ‘yo you ugly’ (which like seriously wtf how he’s literally gorgeous) and he’s just like ‘you’re probably right’, only now he’s jacked af and people are like salivating and Pete preens about it and Ae’s still just like ‘why are people staring at me?’ Anyway.
> 
> I blame re-watching TharnType and Together With Me for this ridiculously thirsty content. Please forgive me.

‘Really Tharn?’

‘Come on Type, at least give me a hand.’

‘Nope. You got your dipshit-self into this mess, you can get yourself out of it.’

‘Ai’Tyyyyyype! Just help me make it stable at least. They’ll be here soon!’ Tharn groans.

‘Then I guess you’d better hurry. I’m gonna go change.’

Tharn pouts but, when it’s clear it has absolutely zero affect, he sighs and returns to trying to figure out the monumental task before him.

Type smirks and heads inside. They’re supposed to be preparing a barbecue lunch for Nóngs Ae and Can and their boyfriends but, of course, nothing in their life can ever go to plan.

Because Tharn isn’t currently preparing any food or setting the table or even getting himself ready. No, he’s building a treehouse. It is apparently supposed to be simple: a sweet outdoor nook for Princess to have time to herself. The foundations are already there; Tharn only needs to add in the walls, roof, and attach the ladder. P’Thorn was originally supposed to be available to help, as he and Tharn had started this project together, but he’s been called in to handle some business affairs of their parents, since they’re currently overseas. So before Princess returns from her summer camp the following day, the duty of treehouse building has fallen to Tharn.

Type pops into Tharn’s childhood room and slips on a fresh button-up from his stash of clothes in Tharn’s dresser. He’s rolling up his sleeves when his phone dings.

Type shakes his head at the text and shoots off a quick response. Of course his juniors are right on time—Nóng Pete is driving them. Type laughs to himself and makes his way back downstairs. He hopes Tharn’s miraculously finished the treehouse and is now in the throws of prepping lunch because they’re about to have their hands full of a hungry Can.

Type Thiwat Phawattakun, at the mercy of his Nóngs.What has his life even _come_ to?

~x~

Type opens the door and gives a warm greeting to Ae, Pete, Can, and Tin. They make an interesting quartet on the doorstep: Ae, looking only mildly uncomfortable, in a dark blue button-down and tan chinos; angelic Pete in a sky blue shirt and crisp, cream linen pants; just-off-the-runway Tin in a black shirt and white trouser combination that must have cost more than Type’s degree; and Can, bless him, in a well-fitted, but wrinkled as hell green shirt and black shorts. Type has to resist the urge to roll his eyes—his Nóngs are all very predictable.

He ushers them inside and leads them to the back garden. ‘So, as you can see, we’ve been a bit sidetracked this morning.’ Type gestures to where Tharn is currently attempting to balance on the ladder and nail down another board for the treehouse wall.

Tharn scoffs from his vaguely precarious position. ‘We? Type, you’ve done literally nothing to help.’

‘At least I’m clean, asshole.’ Type smirks up at his boyfriend, tremendously enjoying the role-reversal. As Type’s still a regular at football games with both his friends and colleagues, it’s usually the other way around—Tharn clean and delicious and Type sweaty and gross. Tharn unknowingly makes it worse when he rubs sweat off his forehead, inadvertently replacing it with a smear of dirt. Type doesn’t try very hard to hide his laugh.

Tharn finishes nailing the board in place, makes his way down the ladder, and returns the waiis from the Nóngs. ‘Sorry everyone, I thought I’d be able to get this done before you arrived.’

‘We don’t mind P’Tharn krub,’ Pete says sweetly.

‘Don’t sweat it P!’ Can beams.

‘Would you like us to help you, P’Tharn krub?’ Pete asks.

Tharn smiles at him and shakes his head. ‘Thanks Nóng Pete, but it’s ok. I’ll just make sure this doesn’t fall down and then get started on the food. It shouldn’t take too long. Besides, I don’t want to trouble you.’

‘Oh, it’s no trouble at all P’Tharn! In fact, Ai’Ae and Ai’Tin would be happy to help you finish here while Ai’Can and I help P’Type with preparing the food, krub.’

Tin, Can and Ae react at the same time.

Tin whips his head at Pete. ’What?’

‘Food? Where?!’ Can says, instantly scanning his surroundings.

‘We will?’ Ae says, bemused, looking at Pete.

Type has the pleasure of watching Pete’s smile and puppy eyes _literally_ melt Ae. It would be disgusting if Pete wasn’t so sweet.

 _And if I didn’t know I can do the exact same thing to Tharn, and just as effectively_ , Type thinks with a smirk.

Ae looks at Tin and shrugs, already un-buttoning the top of his shirt and pulling it over his head, readjusting his undershirt when it rises up. ‘Of course we will,’ He says with a smile, handing Pete his shirt. He delivers a swift, soft pinch to Pete’s cheek and then walks towards Tharn.

Tin heaves a world-weary sigh and begins to work on the buttons on his shirt. He mumbles something about ‘designer’ and ‘wrinkles’ and Ae being a ‘typical engineer’, shrugging out of his shirt and passing it over Can’s head to Pete. Can’s expression is mildly offended until Tin presses a quick kiss to his hair, smooths his undershirt, and strolls over to join Tharn and Ae.

Type will die before he admits it, but the smile Tharn sends his way before turning and instructing Ae and Tin turns him to actual putty. ‘Alright Nóngs, to the kitchen,’ he says and they traipse inside.

~x~

With the extra sets of hands of Pete and Can, they’re able to chop and prepare all the meat, seafood, and vegetables and set up the dining table for their barbecue in next to no time. Pete even manages to throw together a fruity, boozy punch with nothing but some foraged ingredients and his wits. Type makes sure to file this information away for their next New Years celebration.

‘Let them know everything’s ready, will you?’ Type says to Can.

Can races to the back door. ’Oi! Food’s ready so hurry—’ He cuts off abruptly.

Type peers at Can. He’s frozen in place with his hand on the doorframe and mouth slightly ajar. Type looks at Pete, who shrugs. Placing the last sets of cutlery, Type and Pete walk over to join Can in the back doorway. Type suddenly understands Can’s inability to speak. His mouth goes a little dry himself.

Tharn, Ae and Tin are nearly finished the treehouse, which is great, but not why Type cannot drag his eyes away or form a coherent thought.

All three men have ditched their undershirts. The effect is really _something_.

Type can’t help the low contented hum in the back of his throat at the sight before him. Tharn, shirtless, his rippling muscles graced with a light sheen of sweat. His beautiful chest is so perfectly cut and defined, and Type has the sudden heady image of sinking his teeth into all that taut muscle. Tharn’s jeans ride low on his hips—Type can see the dimples at the base of his spine and actually has to restrain himself from licking his lips. And then Tharn chooses that exact moment to drink from his water bottle and _damn_ if that hasn’t been a weakness of Type’s since the very beginning. He stares hungrily at the bob of Tharn’s Adam’s apple and has the split-second delightful flash of sucking on that very throat, hard enough to bruise. He tries to quell the rising surge of heat in his gut. He’s suddenly very thirsty.

He is not alone in his ogling: his juniors appear to be just as _thirsty_ as he is. Type can’t help but grin at the hungry eyes and slack jaws beside him.

Can looks about ready to _eat_ Tin. Considering Can’s normal relationship with food, Type spares a moment for Tin and hopes his stamina can match his boyfriends voracious appetite. Type squints—there may actually be drool on Can’s chin. Type attempts to stifle a laugh as his junior practically _whines_ when Tin, looking every bit like he’s been sculpted from marble, stretches to hand Ae a hammer. The action further highlights Tin’s hard and lean body, very much complete with a broad chest and washboard abs.

 _Not as good as my Tharn_ , Type thinks, _but I can appreciate the view_.

Type is most surprised by Pete. In all the years he’s gotten to know Ae’s boyfriend, he’s only ever known him as a sweet, impossibly shy, ridiculously kind young man. The expression on Pete’s face right now almost makes _Type_ blush. Hungry isn’t the word. Ravenous, maybe. Or _ferocious_.

If he’s honest, he gets it. Ae may be Type’s junior, and there’s absolutely no one in the world for Type other than Tharn, but he’s not _blind_. When he had first met Ae, he’d been a short, scrappy firecracker freshman with a short fuse that Type could certainly relate to. Ae’s best friend Pond, resident expert on provoking said short fuse, had said Ae was like a stray dog: bite-sized with a sizeable bark and worse bite. Well, over the years Ae hasn’t so much grown _up_ as he has filled _out_. These days Ae is still roughly under average height, but not a single soul ever notices, being far too busy staring at his _actually chiselled_ chest and the sheer _width_ of his biceps and quads. The joke is that what Ae lacks in height in comparison to his boyfriend he makes up for by being able to bench-press him. Not even an exaggeration—Type has seen him do it on a dare and, what’s more, without even breaking a sweat, he did it _more than once_.

Of their own accord, Type’s eyes slide back to Tharn. Sure, Ae and Tin are hot, but there’s no comparison. Tharn eclipses everyone effortlessly.

Being the tallest, Tharn and Tin hold the roof in place while Ae, legs hooked over a branch, hangs from above and nails it down. To Type it looks unnecessarily complicated and yet, not even a moment later, Tharn gives a small cry of success.

‘Finally,’ Tin mutters.

Ae swings agilely down from the tree and drops to the ground.

The three pick up their abandoned undershirts and bottles of water and make their way over to Type, Can and Pete.

‘It actually looks pretty good—it’s not even crooked.’ Type says. His voice seems to break the spell over his juniors.

‘Well done P’Tharn, Ai’Tin, Ai-Ai’Ae, krub.’ Pete manages to sound almost normal, despite the breathy stumble over Ae’s name.

‘Mm, thirsty,’ is all Can says and Type snorts. Tin tilts his head with a small, almost imperceptible smile. He comes toward Can, hands him his bottle and tucks the junior into his side. ‘Ew sweaty!’ Can says in a tone that does not reflect the feeling of his words _at all_. He drinks deeply, seemingly unable to look away from Tin’s chest.

Tharn catches Type’s gaze and his grin is _obscene_. Type makes a face. Tharn schools his expression and addresses the Nóngs, ‘We might move the barbecue from the dining table to outside. It’s such a nice afternoon, it would be a shame to waste it.’

Between the six of them, they relocate very quickly and soon the air is filled with sizzling, mouth-watering aromas and spices. Tharn, Ae and Tin are once again fully clothed. Type mourns the loss of his view of Tharn’s exquisite physique, but is grateful for the sake of his juniors and their sanity.

They bicker and joke back and forth across the round table. The breeze is warm without being stifling and, being later in the afternoon, the sun’s sting has softened.

Long after everyone else has finished eating, Can finally leans back in his chair and rests his head on Tin’s shoulder. He heaves a satisfied sigh, patting his stomach contentedly. ‘Thank you P’s! That was really delicious!’

‘You’re finally full?!’ Type laughs.

Tin furrows his brow. ‘Watch it,’ He says lowly, but he can’t hide the small upward quirk of his lips.

Tharn stretches and rests his arm around Type’s shoulders. ‘Really though, Nóngs, it’s been good to catch up. We should do this more often. Though perhaps without the pre-lunch construction efforts next time.’ Tharn raises his drink and salutes Ae and Tin. ‘Thank you again N’Ae and N’Tin for all your help earlier.’ Tharn smiles at both in turn.

Tin shrugs and takes a sip of his punch.

‘No worries P’, it was a pleasure.’ Ae inclines his head and gives a crooked smile.

Beside him, Pete sighs softly, ‘It was a pleasure all right.’

Ae gapes at him, Tin spits out his drink and Type bursts out laughing. Blushing bright red, Pete claps his hands over his mouth and buries his face in Ae’s shoulder. Automatically, Ae draws his arm protectively around Pete.

Can lurches up—Tin has to grab the back of his shirt to stop him ending up on the barbecue hotplate. ‘I knew it wasn’t just me!’ He glares back at Tin, pointing an accusatory finger, before turning on Tharn and Ae. ‘You all did that on purpose, didn’t you?!’

Type just laughs harder. Tharn is no better. Trying desperately not to laugh, he raises his hands in mock surrender.

Tin cuffs the back of Can’s head and receives a none-too-gentle punch in the bicep in return. Pete does not leave his hiding place in Ae’s neck.

Rubbing his arm dramatically, Tin rolls his eyes. ‘Actually, I think we catch up just enough. Perhaps it could even be less.’

~x~

Giving a final wave to the back of Pete’s Mercedes, Tharn closes the door with a smile. ‘Honestly, those Nóngs…’

Type chuckles.

Tharn steps in and hugs him from behind, resting his chin on Type’s shoulder. Type’s arms come up to fold over Tharn’s across his stomach.

‘You did enjoy the show though, yes?’ Tharn’s voice is smug.

Type rolls his eyes and gives Tharn’s hands a light smack. 'You _did_ do it on purpose, didn't you?'

Tharn huffs a laugh, 'Oh, definitely. Tin also very much does anything in his power to tease his _Cantaloupe_.' He snorts. 'Ae though,' Tharn shakes his head. 'That kid _still_ has no idea the effect he has.'

Type laughs, 'He really doesn't, poor Nóng.' 

They slip into a comfortable silence, lightly swaying to their own rhythm.

Tharn drops a kiss to Type’s shoulder and says lightly, ’You know, that being said, Techno once drunkenly confessed to me that Ae and Pete have so much sex, he’s convinced they have more than us.’

Type grins. ‘Honestly? If you’d told me before, I would have laughed in your face. But after seeing Pete today, I am shocked I didn’t realise it sooner.’ He pauses, glances sidelong at Tharn, then says, innocently as hell, ‘Though I don’t know about Techno’s assumption that it's more than us—seems a bit of a stretch if you ask me.’

Tharn spins him around so they’re face to face in a loose embrace. He glances at Type’s lips and back to his eyes. ‘Really?’ He says.

Type hums and nods his head.

Tharn dips his head into Type’s neck, pressing a light kiss, and murmurs against his skin, ’Well, I suppose our only option is to rectify that assumption.’

Type’s eyes flutter closed. Heat flares in his chest. ‘Is that so?’ He breathes.

Tharn pulls back ever so slightly and Type opens his eyes. They gaze intently at one another. Then Tharn says, voice almost, _almost_ a growl, ’Want to prove him wrong?’

Type doesn’t miss a beat. ‘Always.’ He pulls Tharn closer, their faces breaths apart.

Tharn smiles, that beautiful smile that only Type gets to see. ’Well then, there’s no time like the present.’


	2. Epilogue: A Reprise in Thirds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of shirtless shenanigans entails, of course, more shirtlessness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did this story warrant an epilogue? Of course not. Did me and my dumbass brain write one anyway? Of course we did. 
> 
> I was mostly inspired by Tin’s comment in the Tharntype final episode (or maybe it was the special ep?) where he says Can’s been “possessive” and then he just smirks about it and so... here we are. Horny and possessive TharnType, AePete and TinCan. And yup, I’ll see myself out.

Tharn slips out of bed, pulling on a pair of loose sweatpants and heads towards the bedroom door.

‘And where do you think you’re going?’ Type demands. 

_ Ah there he is _ , Tharn thinks,  _Full Brat _ _Mode: Activated_. Tharn pauses at the door and glances back at Type. ‘To get us some food,’ He replies, trying unbelievably hard to deliberately ignore Type’s very obvious  _come hither_ face.

Type quirks a perfect brow. ‘Why bother when you have an entire feast right here?’

And doesn’t he just? Type is only half-covered by their dark-grey bamboo sheets. It’s a divine sight that Tharn could drink in for an eternity and never be full. Tharn smirks, momentarily distracted by the memory of buying those exact sheets.

_ Tharn walked up behind where Type was rubbing a sheet between his fingertips and rested his chin on his shoulder. ‘See any you like?’ _

_ ‘These ones—they’re soft.’ Type murmured, unconsciously leaning back against Tharn’s chest. _

_ ‘Aw like you, my Kitten,’ Tharn said, wrapping his arms loosely about his waist. _

_ Type, beet-red, ground out the usual, ‘Shut the fuck up asshole.’ _

_ Tharn laughed and pressed a swift, subtle kiss to Type’s jaw. ‘Aw Kitty got claws.’ _

_ Type looked at him and holy shit Type was the only man Tharn had ever met who  _ literally  _ had bedroom eyes. And they were  _ effective _. _

_ ‘Yes,’ Type said, voice low and gravelly. ‘So hurry up and buy these sheets so you can fuck me into them.’ _

_ Tharn immediately let go of Type, hailed the server and pointed at the sheets Type was holding. ‘We’ll take three in king size, thanks.’  _

Tharn is dragged mercilessly back to the present as Type stretches languidly, his delicious golden skin still slightly flushed from their previous round. Type is absolutely mouth-watering, but the brat knows it and uses it fully to his advantage. Of course, Tharn doesn’t really mind, it’s just that he  _ is  _ pretty hungry—for food as well as Type. Nevertheless, he’s resigned himself to the fact that he’s actually useless at refusing Type anything. Flashing an indulgent smile and shaking his head, Tharn’s fingers move to tug off his sweatpants when his stomach growls.

Type glances at Tharn’s stomach, then drags his eyes up his chest to his face and the small abashed smile he finds there. He considers this new information, seeming to weigh the pros and cons. This time it’s Tharn who raises a brow. 

Type comes to his decision. The actual fiend licks his lips and Tharn is _so gone_. ‘Third orgasm, then dinner,’ He says, and honestly? They both know it’s not going to take much convincing.

Tharn strips and stalks towards him, leaping onto the bed and covering Type’s body with his own. He nuzzles into Type’s neck and breathes deeply. ‘Mmm looking like that, how could I ever refuse you?’

Type snorts but there’s a breathlessness when he fires back, ‘Exactly. So you should stop trying to,  _ Ai’Asshole _ .’

Tharn smiles into his skin. ‘As you wish, Kitten.’

Type’s resulting insult is swallowed in a heated kiss.

~x~

Pete pulls away from Tin and Can’s new apartment and Ae settles back into the car seat. They travel back in comfortable silence. 

At one point, Ae notices Pete’s hands around the wheel and frowns. He’s gripping so tightly his knuckles are white. It bothers him, of course it does, anything bothering Pete  always does and always will, but he also trusts Pete to tell him if anything’s wrong. The thought lights a small flare of pride in his chest. They’ve come so far in just two and a half years. Pete is so much better at speaking his mind and Ae actually finds comfort in practising patience. Absently, he smiles to himself: he’s so fucking lucky.

Feeling a little overwhelmed with just how much he loves Pete, Ae can’t resist reaching out and resting his hand on Pete’s thigh, drawing small smoothing circles with his thumb. He watches the world fly passed the window. 

Pete is still quiet when they park and as they head up the stairs to their condo, but Ae doesn’t mind. He just smiles at Pete and pulls his keys out to unlock the door.

He barely makes it inside before the door slams behind him and Pete is pressing him into the wall, body flush against his and sweet mouth insistent. 

_ Oh. That’s why he was quiet . _

Ae’s body reacts instantly. He cradles the back of Pete’s head as the other man’s hands roam across his chest. Ae doesn’t know exactly how it happens, but suddenly he’s shirtless. The wall is cool against his fevered skin, a delectable contrast to Pete’s warm, wet, open-mouthed kisses across his collarbone, chest and stomach.

After all these years, Ae should really know better by now that, for all Pete’s sweetness, sometimes his Angel could truly be a fierce little _minx_. 

Pete kisses his way back to Ae’s lips, murmuring against them, ‘Take me to bed, Ai’Ae.’

Ae tries very hard not to melt. ‘Of course, love,’ Ae gives him a quick, passionate kiss, leaving them both a little breathless, before lifting under Pete’s thighs and hoisting him up. Pete obediently wraps his legs around Ae’s waist. 

‘I love you Ai’Ae,’ Pete says inbetween pressing insistent kisses to Ae’s neck.

Ae smiles and walks them to their bedroom, very intent on worshipping this man all night.  _ And for the rest of their lives _ . ‘As I love you, Ai’Khun-Chai.’

~x~

‘Ai-Tin!’

Tin turns and finds Pete, one hand wrapped around a takeaway coffee and the other waving in the air. It’s Monday morning—Tin literally saw Pete on the weekend at P’Tharn’s barbecue and yet Pete greets him like it’s been years. Tin rolls his eyes but smiles affectionately at his friend, crossing the canteen towards him. 

‘How are you, Ai’Tin krub?’ Pete asks when Tin reaches him.

He’s about to respond with  _fine_ when two things happen simultaneously. Pete’s eyes drift passed Tin’s shoulder and a smile lights his face as he lifts his arm to wave again. At that exact moment, some asshole, who’s in a hurry and clearly not paying any attention to his surroundings, smacks into Pete’s shoulder as he flies passed. 

Boiling coffee splashes in a wide arc all across Tin’s shirt. The pain is immediate and unbearable. 

Pete gasps, already profusely apologising. Tin barely manages a quick _it’s fine_ because _fuck_ it isn’t, it  _ burns  _ but he doesn’t want Pete to feel more guilty. The soaked material clings to his chest and only intensifies the searing pain. Without thinking, Tin yanks at his tie and undoes his first few buttons before whipping the offending garment over his head. Cool air rushes across him, a brief relief, but doesn’t completely sooth the raw skin. He inspects the damage. There’s already a large, angry red flush painted across his chest. He’s definitely had worse but it  _ stings_. He needs cold water and aloë and, as he looks around at the many eyes pointed his way, to get the  _ fuck _ out of this canteen and out of sight  _ now_.

Pete is still apologising and Tin’s about to tell him, not unkindly of course, to shut it when something, no, _someone_ _ attacks him_. A body, solid and warm, slams into him from behind. Tin feels the air whoosh out of him with an ungraceful  _ ooof _ before he hears the voice, no the  _ growl _ , in his ear.

‘No! Not allowed! Never again!’ 

Tin manages to capture and wrangle an armful of Can as said man attempts to wrestle an entirely too-small jacket—no, his football jersey—over Tin’s chest.

‘Cantaloupe? What—’

Can glares up at him fiercely. ‘Don’t you  _ Cantaloupe _ me!  Cantaloup my  _ arse _ !’

Can finally has both feet back on the ground and Tin just stands there, absolutely dumbfounded at the expression on his boyfriend’s face. Can is  _ furious_, practically _vibrating_ with rage. Tin has only a moment to think about that and snatch his shirt and tie from an amused Pete before Can ruthlessly grabs his arm and  yanks. 

Tin is unceremoniously dragged all the way to his car. He’s a little shocked at his Cantaloupe’s determination. Then again, Can’s stamina is truly insane. “Pocket rocket” doesn’t quite begin to cover it. Tin chuckles, only to instantly regret it when Can shoots a glare at him and then, using force Tin has only really witnessed in their bedroom, hurls him bodily against his own car. Tin manages not to lose his breath this time, though his arse throbs dully where it smacks against the car door handle.

‘No one but me!’ Can shouts, brow furrowed.

Tin blinks at him. ‘What are you—

Can rushes forward and kisses him and Tin’s mind goes  blank . The kiss is frenzied and a little wild and Tin absolutely  _ loves it _ . Can’s hands rake across his skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake, though Tin hisses when he grazes the burn. Suddenly Can steps back and Tin tries very hard to disguise his breathlessness, which is admittedly difficult when one is shirtless. Can watches him silently for a moment before leaning forward and pressing the softest kiss to the burn. Tin nearly short-circuits right there and then. 

Can reaches up and adjusts his football jersey across Tin’s shoulders. It’s still too small for Tin’s broader frame. Can frowns. ‘No one but me, got it?’

Tin suddenly realises. A rush of affection spreads through him and he smiles softly. How fucking wonderful it is to be wanted, to be _loved_ , so mightily and wholeheartedly by this glorious, ridiculous man. He pulls Can towards him and presses their mouths together in a light kiss. ‘Of course, my Cantaloupe. No one but you. Always yours.’ Tin smiles against Can’s lips.

The bite he receives in return is so worth it. Particularly when it turns into more kisses and a thigh between his and the heated demand for his car keys.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading this absolute mess!!
> 
> [tumblr](https://disasterbialert.tumblr.com)   
>  [twitter](https://twitter.com/disasterbialert)


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